Chapter 88: The Shell That Hears, the Silkworm Robe of Ice, the Ancient Dust Whisk

“Seal the entrance.”

An aged voice drifted from the neighboring cave.

Qingyuan, discerning from the footsteps, guessed there were about four people present, all cultivators at the second tier of heaven, though their mastery varied. Two among them had reached the peak of the second tier.

“All three of you are old friends of mine, and our years of camaraderie can be trusted,” the elderly voice continued. “I had intended to ask Brother Guo for help, but seeing you all gathered, there’s no harm in sharing the matter, since you’re aware.”

The other three responded with laughter, easing the atmosphere.

“I’ve spoken of this matter before, though briefly. Now that all three are here, allow me to explain in detail,” said the elder surnamed Fan. “But before I divulge the matter, we must first set some rules.”

“Rules are necessary, indeed,” another voice replied jovially. “Brother Fan has called us for aid; it wouldn’t do for us to take over as hosts in the end.”

The remaining two voices chimed in together, “Brother Guo speaks true.”

Qingyuan noted these voices sounded not so aged—perhaps they were still middle-aged.

“You needn’t worry,” said the elder Fan. “I have cultivated for many years and have always dealt with others honestly. Aid me this time, and you shall be rewarded generously.”

He proclaimed, “Under the heavens, I call upon the three of you to assist me. Should you do your utmost and help me attain what I seek, you will be rewarded to your satisfaction, and I shall never go back on my word. Should I break this vow, let demons enter my heart, my cultivation stagnate, and let Heaven forsake me.”

Simultaneously, the other three swore their oaths as well.

“Under the heavens, I, Guo, assist Brother Fan. If the reward satisfies, I will give my all to help him obtain this item, and never betray loyalty for greed. Otherwise, let demons enter my heart, my cultivation stagnate, and let Heaven forsake me.”

The other two each pledged similar vows, identical to Guo’s.

Qingyuan understood that for ordinary folk, such oaths meant little, but for cultivators, breaking a vow could bring unpredictable consequences.

Whether “forsaken by Heaven” would truly befall them was uncertain, but once sworn, any betrayal would bring guilt, unsettling the mind. That disturbance might be negligible in routine cultivation, but at moments of breakthrough, it could arise, risking death and the dissolution of their path.

This was what they called “demons entering the heart.”

Of course, there were others who, after breaking a vow, felt no guilt, no regret, believing themselves blameless. Such people might escape repercussions.

“Good!” said the elder Fan. “Since you are all so forthright, I’ll tell you: what I seek this time is the Divine Thunder.”

“Divine Thunder?”

Even though the three had anticipated as much, they could not help but be astonished.

“So it is truly Divine Thunder. Brother Fan, your fortunes are remarkable,” sighed Guo. “I thought the Divine Thunder would split into thousands, and that, entering the mountains, we would all gain something. But its division is limited. The ten elders of the Orthodox Daoist Sect, along with those from Flower Pavilion, all inheritors of immortal lineage and wielders of extraordinary methods, have gathered nearly all the Divine Thunder. The rest went to the Sun family and Seven Spirits Gate, some to wandering cultivators, and the rest to other hermits. In the end, we ordinary wanderers, even if we chance upon Divine Thunder, it is not easily obtained.”

“Indeed,” said another. “Even when encountering Divine Thunder, a struggle ensues, and whether it suits us remains uncertain.”

“What is there to suit or not? To possess Divine Thunder is a magnificent opportunity!” a third interjected. “Earlier, I saw an acquaintance killed by a Sun family elder in a skirmish for Divine Thunder—the Thunder was seized, his life lost.”

Qingyuan, separated by the rock wall, heard everything clearly.

He knew these men described Divine Thunder as so rare not only because it was true, but also to inflate its worth.

After all, if Elder Fan had acquired Divine Thunder, such a tremendous prize warranted a generous reward.

“Rest assured, if I obtain Divine Thunder, you will not be shortchanged,” promised Elder Fan. “This... is my most precious possession... the Sound Shell.”

“The Sound Shell?”

All three voices betrayed surprise.

Qingyuan too was taken aback.

This Sound Shell was a rare treasure from the East Sea, capable of storing voices within.

Elder Fan explained, “The Sound Shell is a treasure, but more importantly, it holds a voice.”

“A voice?” Elder Guo asked. “What is special about it?”

Fan’s tone lifted, “This voice belongs to an elder of the sixth tier of heaven from the East Sea, left behind while expounding the Dao. To hear it is as if you listen to a sixth-tier elder teaching you personally. Is it not precious?”

“A sixth-tier elder’s discourse?” The three were amazed, deeply moved.

Qingyuan, however, felt little surprise. During his time at Purple Heaven Palace, he often heard Senior Qingyang lecture, and occasionally even great immortals. So hearing an elder’s discourse was no longer novel.

For ordinary cultivators, though, when could they ever hear an elder expound the Dao?

Let alone one of the sixth tier?

“The Sound Shell can retain five recordings. In my possession, only three remain,” Elder Fan sighed. “I listened once, and immediately entered retreat—my cultivation soared to the peak of the second tier. Just that single hearing etched the teachings in my mind. A second hearing would be beneficial, but not as much. Now, only two remain... How should they be divided among you?”

A middle-aged man laughed, “I had hoped for Brother Fan’s Daoist robe of Northwest Ice Silkworm, but clearly the Sound Shell is more worthwhile.”

Elder Guo spoke gravely, “I have cultivated to the peak of the second tier, but have no clue how to condense the Dao’s intent. Regardless of the content, simply hearing such a figure’s voice is a tremendous boon. I must have one turn with the Sound Shell!”

The last man pondered long, then smiled wryly, “Very well, since Brother Guo and Friend Xu both want the Sound Shell, I shall take the Daoist robe instead. Though the robe is precious—fire cannot harm it, water cannot wet it, dust cannot settle—it cannot compare to an elder’s teaching.”

Elder Fan considered for a moment. “So be it. Friend Feng, your concession spares me difficulty. In that case, let me add a whisk for you.”

Feng asked, “What is this whisk?”

“This whisk is also made from Northwest Ice Silkworm silk, impervious to fire and water. Its handle is crafted from Golden Ironwood,” Elder Fan explained. “I usually carry it for protection. Though not a magical implement, it is still a treasure—no ordinary weapon, unless enchanted, can harm it. Look at the handle, the silken strands: after years of travel and countless battles, swords and blades have struck it, yet it bears not a single scar or break.”

He paused, a note of reflection in his voice. “This whisk originally belonged to an old Daoist, handed down for generations and treasured. When he went into retreat to condense the Dao’s intent, he asked me to protect him. Seeing the whisk was a treasure, I dealt him a swift blow, took his life, and claimed it for myself.”

Feng laughed, “Brother Fan, you are indeed decisive.”

Elder Fan chuckled but gave no further reply.

“Since all are satisfied, once the matter is accomplished, I shall hand over your rewards,” he said slowly. “Now, let us speak of the Divine Thunder.”

PS: This morning I heard some news and felt moved. I ask all friends from various circles to support the author—thank you! Each chapter takes two hours; I check references and outline daily—it is not easy. I hope for readers’ support. If you have read works by Lord Guan of June, I hope that in my writing career, you too will lend your support!